Page 22

Chapter 21

Doug

A fter slapping that deadbeat dad with the court documents instructing him that a hearing was set for ten days from now and he better show up or else a warrant will be on his head, I hoof it back to my place.

An angry swarm of wasps is there to greet me, but I brandished my old friend—a big can of Bugg Off —and I manage to slip inside without issue.

Operation Get My Mate Back is taking shape inside my head.

The last few hours play through my brain from the second I hung up with Horace, after Dina threw my sorry ass out.

I was frozen in place. I just stood and stared out at the empty parking lot like it held the answers.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

It’s hours later.

Almost morning.

And I feel like shit.

No, scratch that.

I feel worse than shit.

Like the lowest of the low.

A complete, utter idiot.

I mean, I had her.

My fated mate.

In my arms.

In my life.

She was mine.

She is mine.

And then I went and fumbled the damn thing right at the finish line.

Good job, Doug.

Ruined your mate’s faith in you faster than a drunk Santa ruins Christmas at karaoke night.

My Wolf inside is pacing, snapping and snarling, claws dragging deep lines through my insides.

He’s pissed.

No. He’s wrecked.

Because he knows what I know now.

We lost her. Maybe forever.

I rake both hands through my hair, tugging until it hurts, but even that doesn’t ease the brutal pressure crushing my chest.

I can’t stop seeing her face.

Replay after replay, like some cruel highlight reel.

That soft, glowy, I adore you expression?

Gone.

Wiped clean and replaced with heartbreak.

And worse.

So much worse.

Disappointment took its place.

She looked at me like she didn’t recognize me anymore.

My Wolf howls inside, a sharp, guttural sound that feels like claws raking across bone.

Because in a way?

We’re already dying.

I was supposed to protect her.

Make her feel wanted.

Make her feel like she was everything.

Instead, I made her think she was temporary.

Some for now girl.

Just a way to scratch an itch.

A notch on a bedpost.

Fuck no.

NO WAY!

That’s not it.

That’s never been it.

She’s my mate.

My. Mate.

She’s supposed to be my forever.

And I trashed that like a goddamn moron too scared to admit he wanted forever more than his next breath.

I pull out my phone again, fingers trembling as I swipe and stab at the screen.

There’s only one person crazy and powerful enough to talk me off this ledge. And he’s probably already lighting candles and muttering about the Fates laughing at dumb Wolves like me.

Uncle Uzzi.

It rings once. Twice. Then he finally answers.

“Douglas Wolfgang McGregor.”

Yep. He’s already using the full name.

“You’ve got balls of brass, son, calling me at this ungodly hour.”

His voice is pure disapproval, layered with a healthy splash of I told you so. I yelp and pull the phone back, watching in disbelief as blue sparkles flicker out of existence presumably from the little speaker where my ear was resting.

“Did you just zap me through the phone?”

“What do you want? Be quick now.”

“Uncle Uzzi,” I groan, dragging a hand down my face, shame pooling thick and ugly in my gut. “I fucked up.”

No point sugarcoating now.

“Dina’s pissed. No, it’s worse. She’s hurt.”

Saying it out loud makes my throat tighten, my Wolf pacing harder, letting out mournful, angry yips in the back of my head.

“I hurt her. I did the wrong thing. I thought the wrong thing. I panicked, and she kicked me out of Pizza Girls like some loser who never deserved her in the first place.”

I pause, breathing hard.

“I feel like I’m dying, Uzzi. Like I’m some monster who lost his mate because I’m too emotionally constipated to admit I wanted her more than I wanted air.”

Uzzi doesn’t rush to fill the silence.

He lets me stew in it, which, honestly?

I deserve.

When he speaks, it’s low and sharp.

Measured like a man who has walked through every storm already.

“I see,” he says simply. “So. You messed up.”

He lets that hang a beat too long, twisting the blade.

“Tell me about it.”

And I do.

No pride left, I spill my guts to the old Witch.

Every ugly, stupid mistake.

Every fear and flaw.

The way I froze up, held her at bay, and then sabotaged something precious because I couldn’t admit I didn’t want to be a Lone Wolf anymore.

When I finally stop talking, Uzzi goes quiet again.

It feels like judgment day.

Then, finally, he speaks.

“Tell me, Douglas,” he says slowly.

“Do you want sympathy, or solutions? What will it be, Wolf?”

There’s no hesitation in me anymore.

Because I know.

I need her.

More than I need air.

More than I need pride or comfort or my stupid, Wolfish ego.

I need Dina to look at me like she cares again.

Like I matter to her even if it’s only a sliver compared to how much she matters to me.

“Solutions,” I say, my voice breaking a little.

Because sympathy won’t bring her back.

But fighting for her?

Fighting like my life depends on it?

Which let’s be honest, it fucking does.

It’s a no brainer.

I will do anything to get Dina back. Anything.

Uzzi sighs dramatically like this is all so exhausting but also like he’s secretly been waiting for me to grovel since this whole Date to Mate thing began.

“Look, I know I might not count as a real client because I only used Date to Mate to break that Witch’s curse?—”

“First, stop being an idiot. You think you used the app because you wanted to break a hex, Douglas? Pish posh. That’s not why.”

“It’s not?”

“No. The Fates already chose the lovely Dina for you. The app was just a means to bring you together, but it might have happened a dozen other ways.”

“Do you really think so, Uncle Uzzi?”

“My boy, I know so. Fated mates can’t stay apart for long. Especially when they live so close together. And do not question me again, I’ve been doing this since before you were even an idea, Wolf.”

He pauses and in the background, it sounds like he is moving from one room to another.

“Like I said. I have been at this a very long time, indeed. Bringing supernaturals together with their fated mates is the reason I exist. And Dina is the reason you exist. The only question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“Okay. I am sorry I blamed the app?—”

“The Fates, boy, they chose her for you. But you, you chose fear. Tell me, did you ever tell her how you feel? Ask her how she feels?”

“ Um. No. Not really,” I confess.

“Well, you must fix it. Make her see she’s your mate. Not an option. Not a maybe. The one.”

“Right. Great. Except she won’t talk to me right now,” I mutter, slumping against my kitchen counter. “She told me to get out.”

“You left her alone after she was attacked?”

“What? No! I would never! Horace went over there in case any more Cats came sniffing around. He brought her back to her place.”

“Good. So, she doesn’t know you love her?”

“Love? Um, n-no,” I stutter, because the truth is, I’ve never loved anyone before.

Never said those three little words to another living soul.

But the second Uncle Uzzi says the dreaded L word, it all clicks.

I love her.

I love her!

My Wolf wants to howl it from the rooftop, but Uncle Uzzi’s voice grounds me.

“Then you’re going to show her,” Uzzi says firmly.

“I will! I’ll tell her I love her as soon as she’ll listen?—”

“Not tell. Show. Wolves don’t win mates back with words, Doug. They show up. They make a claim. They make it undeniable.”

I blink, thinking hard.

Show up.

Make it undeniable.

“I can do that.”

An idea starts forming, stupid and bold and probably ridiculous, but also, it’s very me .

“Wunderbar!”

“Okay,” I say slowly, the beginnings of a plan forming. “Okay. I think I know what to do.”

“Good boy, I knew you had it in you,” Uzzi says, clearly amused. “Now go fix your mess, Wolf.”